


Save Me

by justafan (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Underage Character(s), past sexual abuse insinuated, some happy stuff too, tags will be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:30:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/justafan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean were separated at a young age, but life has a funny way of working out... The boys aren't hunters here.</p><p>Sam has gone from one foster home to another all of his life until he met Bobby. Now his foster dad has moved him across the country and forced him to work in his mechanic friend, John Winchester's, garage. The only thing good in his life right now is the mechanic's son, Dean. The boys have an unexplainable bond, a building relationship, and lots of issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was being led around the garage by an older man with a dominating presence. The man had introduced himself as John and extended a firm handshake. He walked swiftly through the cluttered area pointing randomly to things that Sam knew he'd never remember the names to. Cars weren't Sam's thing. Never had been and as far as he's concerned they never will be. The man spoke curtly and in a gruff tone as he gave Sam the tour.   
His mind wandered as he followed the man aimlessly while pretending to listen. He was going to be lost here. He'd probably make a fool of himself and be made fun of for it. There were so many jobs that he wouldn't mind having. Working at a convenience store or even fast food would suffice. Dear God, if Bobby could have gotten him a job at a library he'd probably die and go to heaven before he even got to start work. But, instead here he was in a garage. He couldn't possibly be more out of place. 

"Bobby said you were gonna need some trainin'" The statement broke through Sam's train of thought. 

"Yes Sir" Sam stated and for some reason he was met with a smile from John. 

"Respectful. I like it." John seemed to ponder something with a sorrowed expression just long enough for Sam to turn confused. 

"Will you be teaching me?" Sam asked him, silently and desperately hoping for a no. The man seemed nice enough but there was just something about him that intimidated the hell out of the young boy. 

"Nah, I've got a lot of paper work to get filed. I'm usually only out here when one of the boys have something they can't get figured out. I'm probably gonna assign my son to look after you." John told him and started to walk away. 

"Your son?" Sam asked, trying to make a conversation instead of feeling awkward. Usually family was one of the first things people wanted to talk about but for some reason the simple encouragement of conversation made John go rigid. The older man stopped in his tracks and with his back still to Sam he responded. 

"Yeah. He should've been here a half hour ago, so I'm sure he'll be in soon. Just sit tight." John left the room without another word leaving Sam in the shop by himself. 

He wandered around looking at all the greasy gadgets but not touching a thing. He didn't have a clue what any of it was used for and the feeling made his stomach sink. Why would Bobby do this to him? He knew Sam was no good at stuff like this. As if uprooting him from his home, life, and friends wasn't enough he was going to make him take a job that a monkey would've been better qualified for. He had claimed he had connections, that he knew John somehow and had apparently bribed the man to essentially babysit him three hours a day after school, and called it 'earning his keep'.   
Sam explored the quiet area and assessed it. Dirty... but he expected that. Decorated with either vintage or just plain old trashy stuff. Rusted coke merchandise littered the walls and some old vinyls, but Sam had never heard of the bands. He squinted to read one in particular when he was startled by a sudden shuffle behind him. 

"If you wanna keep those fingers you better keep 'em off the merchandise." 

Sam spun around to meet the source of the rude comment. He was stunned by what he saw. A young boy, well, man probably, a stained white t-shirt, ripped jeans and a beautiful face. Sam isn't gay but he was pretty sure that if any man were to look into those eyes for ten seconds straight they'd have no choice but to become it. He went to take a step but the motion was too fast, and his converse with slick soles were no match for greased concrete... Sam fell to the ground bringing some random metal scraps with him on the way down.   
His face filled with warmth either from embarrassment or anger when he heard a low chuckle coming from the boy in front of him. 

"I'm fine, thanks." Sam spat out in sarcasm as he got to his feet and started to stomp away. 

"Hey now! That's no way to treat your trainer." The boy mocked. And Sam turned back to face him. 

"You're the boss' son?" Sam asked. 

"Shit... That's how he introduced me?" The boy replied then added, "Why do you look so surprised by that?" 

"No reason really. He seemed to value respect so I guess I'd expected you to be different." The words were out of Sam's mouth before they'd even registered in his brain. The words seemed to resonate with the other boy. He looked away and became uncomfortably still. There was silence for a while before Sam started to panic. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from." He spoke softly and waited an eternity for a response. Finally the boy met Sam's eyes again. This time they were hard, not hurt. 

"My name ain't 'the boss' son', it's Dean. And, you don't know me so don't you even pretend like you know what kind of person I am." Dean seemed to dismiss him with that and he started going through tools in the shop. 

"Sorry" Sam mumbled again, he's pretty sure Dean had heard but he didn't respond. He wished more than anything that he could just go home. Not to the trailer that Bobby had just rented, but back home. To South Dakota. 

"You gonna get to work or what?" Dean called. 

"What can I do?" Sam tried to sound eager to make up for their previous encounter. Dean didn't seem to notice. 

"See that car? Bad tire, there's a new one already on the rim in the trunk. Switch 'em out." Dean's voice was deep and intimidating. It reminded him of John's but this one didn't make him quite as uneasy. He still hadn't looked back at Sam so he took the hint. 

There were only two cars in the garage and Sam did know that rubber stuff literally hanging off of a tire was bad, so he found the right one. However, he wasn't as sure about the changing it process. He looked dreadfully at the tire and gave one of the bolt thingys a turn. It didn't budge. He eyed Dean wishing he could ask for help, but he couldn't muster the courage. He squatted to investigate the bolts then looked around for a tool that seemed similar. He found something. Didn't know what it was, but was gonna give it a try. He went back to the tire and squatted. Trying to turn the long piece of metal where the 'u' shaped thing would fit around the bolt. He fidgeted and banged and wondered if he should look for another tool. His frustration level was already at its peak when he heard several bursts of laughter coming from the open garage door behind him. 

"A wrench! On a lug nut COVER!!" The strange man choked out through his laughs as his presumed friends joined in. Sam dropped the wrench and stared down at the tire. His face heating substantially and his throat tightening.   
He stared blankly away willing his body to calm down. He needed something to ground him, to make him feel okay. So that he wouldn't lose it in this moment. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes and prayed that they wouldn't spill over. In that instant he felt a firm hand come down on his shoulder. He looked up to see Dean's soft gaze. He hadn't known where the boy had even been, but the simple touch from him now is exactly what he'd needed. Everything stilled. Sam took a deep breath as he realized he and Dean were still just staring at each other. Sam looked away again and Dean turned to face the men laughing. 

"You fuckers don't have anything better to do than laugh at a kid? Go the hell on somewhere!" Dean barked an order and although the men were much older they couldn't deny the authority that Dean emitted. They were instantly quiet and gone. Sam stood. 

"Kid?" 

"Yeah man, I didn't mean anything by it." Dean was wiping his hands with an old towel. 

"How old are you?" Sam asked him. 

"Old enough" Dean replied. "You?" 

"Same." Sam said curtly. 

"Touché" Dean grinned in a way that made Sam's stomach do a flip. He instantly felt insecure and out of place. 

"Get outta here, dude. You look like you could use a break. Meet me back here tomorrow, I'll show you a few things." Sam could've been imagining it but he's pretty sure that bitch just winked. He swallowed hard, caught his breath and nodded as he exited the shop. 

On his way home he thought about his old house. Now he wishes he'd helped Bobby out around the scrap yard some more. Maybe then he'd know what a wrench was. He thought about his old friends, Jess and Caleb. He missed them and had promised to keep in touch. But really, how close can you be when you're a thousand miles away? He missed the familiarity... Dean's face flashed in his mind... Mystery was good too though, he thought. He wondered what tomorrow would be like and felt his nerves bubble to the surface.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback thus far! It might be silly to say so, but I'm pretty excited about this story :) Also, if there are any mistakes that are super obvious and bug you, then feel free to let me know. My editing isn't always the best...

"Bobby?" Sam called out as he shut the door behind him. "Bobby, you here?" He didn't hear an answer. He sauntered into the living room and found the man asleep on the sofa. He sat in the chair beside him and put a light hand on his shoulder.

"Bobby?" The man stirred. "Hey, Bobby. You ok?"  
The man opened his eyes and made some gruffing noises.

"Yeah son, I'm fine. Just a long day, that's all." He answered. Sam relaxed into the chair and pulled a book out of his satchel.

"How'd it go over at the garage?" Bobby asked.

"It was ok." Sam wasn't quite sure how it went, but he was pretty sure it didn't qualify as good.

"You don't sound too enthused 'bout that."  
Sam was silent as he picked at the edges of his tattered book. He dwelled on his day. The feeling he had when he'd been laughed at, the way that he felt so utterly lost in that garage, and how he missed his friends so badly. He could feel the anger build in himself. Resentment towards Bobby.

"What's on your mind? Spill, kid." Bobby encouraged. And Sam couldn't stop himself.

"How'd you expect it to go? You sent me to work at a garage when I don't even know what a wrench is. You know I'm bad at that stuff Bobby. And I have no one here! No friends or anything. Why would you do this to me?" Sam was hurt more than mad, but right now he couldn't distinguish between the two.

"Don't you get all huffy with me, boy. I didn't do anything to you, I'm doin' this for you. You might not see it right now, but you will. Trust me." Bobby never raised his voice but that didn't mean he was any less powerful.

"How is this for me? Please, just tell me something. Anything. Give me some kind of reason." Sam's tone was pleading, but Bobby didn't budge. He stood to his feet and walked away from Sam without a word.  
Sam threw his book against the wall and placed his head in his hands. He couldn't believe this. His entire life had been turned upside down for no apparent reason. He didn't understand any of it. He went to his room, laid on his bed, and put on his headphones. He just needed to escape for a while. He closed his eyes and let the melody take him.  
The next thing he felt was heat. It engulfed his bed, burning his body. He thrashed and screamed but he couldn't get away from it. No one came to help. The flames melted his flesh, scorching him to his bones, but somehow he was still alive to feel it. Every ounce of pain in the world all put onto him now. He screamed for it to end. Screamed until there was no more sound. He sank deeper into the darkness. Farther into the flames. Deeper into the pain.

"SAM!" Hands shook his shoulders. "SAM! Wake up!" His body shook violently again. "Wake up!" Sam couldn't hear the voice over his own screams.  
A smack across the face is what brought him to. He was sprawled in the floor. His face bleeding. Nothing made sense.

"Sam? Sam, talk to me." The hands were back, he realized they were Bobby's.

"Bobby?" Sam gasped.

"Oh, thank God." Bobby was holding him now, supporting his weight as he hugged him close.

"Bobby? What happened? Why am I bleeding?" Sam pushed away from him, and Bobby looked even more lost than Sam felt.

"I don't know, son. I guess you hit something when you were flailin' around." He sounded dejected.  
Sam remembered the dream.

"Not again! Bobby, this can't happen again!" Sam was on his feet before Bobby could blink. He tried to follow him.

"Calm down, you might be hurt." Bobby yelled after him.

"I can't do this again!" Sam was halfway down the gravel driveway barefooted before he realized he'd even left the house. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know where he was at for that matter. He'd never been more lost in any sense of the word. He ran. He ran like he was leaving the trailer. Like he was leaving the nightmares. He was leaving the misery and everything else. He was just leaving. So, he ran. Until he ran out of breath. He stopped in the middle of the road panting. Tears streaming down his wet face. And, for the first time he actually looked around. He'd found his way to the shop. Which was exactly the place that he didn't want to be. He noticed the sign for the first time, "Winchester Auto". Something flashed in his mind. A sense of deja vu. It seemed like a distant memory, just barely out of reach. He didn't think he wanted it to become clear. He had a notion that the feeling was buried beneath pain and darkness. He didn't want to dig through that to find the memory. Like a plant that made you happy to look at, but that you knew better than to touch. He stared at the Winchester sign blankly then he remembered something else, the tire. He might not be able to move back home. He might not be able to keep his friends or understand Bobby's decisions. He might not be certain about one single thing having to do with his life. But, one thing was for sure. He was going to change that fucking tire.

Sam wandered around the building looking for a door that might not be locked. He didn't find one. But he did find a side door that didn't have a deadbolt. He searched around in the gravel for something to pick the lock with. He was determined. John's shop was built on a old junkyard there was scrap metal everywhere just beneath the soil. Sam dug shallowly along a few square feet until he found a slender piece of flimsy metal. It'd be perfect. He picked the lock with ease and found a light switch. The next hardest task was finding the right tool for those bolts. Lug nuts, he corrected himself.  
Sam looked around for anything that would fit onto the lug nut. It didn't take a full thirty seconds of searching before he realized the tool was already beside the tire. Dean must've started to change it. He sat cross legged and fit the tool onto the tire. He gave it a hard twist. It still didn't budge. Sam tried again, used all of his strength and still couldn't get the thing to move. He brought up everything he had in every fiber of his being, all of his anger, all of his pain, and he turned it into force. To get the damn lug nut to turn. And it still, it wasn't enough. If he thought he'd been mad before, it was nothing compared to now. He pulled the tool off and slung it without looking. He heard it crash into the tin walls and send a box of small parts flying. Sam sunk back against the tire and rested his head against the body of the old car. He looked at the ceiling through blurry eyes and prayed for this misery to be over. He willed his heart to slow down. Just to stop beating. He focused, he tried. But, he couldn't even do this right.

"What the fuck's goin' on in here?" Dean appeared in the doorway. Angry.  
Sam laughed. Nothing was funny but he couldn't stop the laughs from rolling out of him.

"Sam? Is that you? What are doing here?" Dean still mad, but not livid came to rest beside him. Dean couldn't help but smile at Sam's incessant laughter.  
That is, he smiled until he took in Sam's appearance. He saw his tattered pajamas, dirty scuffed feet, and his tear stained face. Dean was on his knees at the younger boy's side in an instant. For a second Sam's breath was taken away. No more laughing. No more misery. He just looked into the big beautiful green eyes that stared back at him. It felt like electricity was shooting out them into him. For some odd reasoned they looked more pained than Sam even felt. Dean brought his hand to the side of Sam's face, finding the dried blood with his fingers. He held lightly to Sam by his jaw. Sam leaned into the tenderness, closing his tired eyes.

"Who hurt you?" Dean's voice was a strong contrast to his stance. He felt safe with Dean right now, content and cared for. Which was weird considering he doesn't even know the guy. But, Dean's voice, that was scary right now. Deep, demanding, and full of unspoken threats. It sent shivers up Sam's spine.

"No." Sam opened his eyes. Dean's were filled with conflict. "No one hurt me."  
Dean took his hand away from Sam's face and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Sam yearned at the loss of Dean's touch. Again, he thought, weird.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dean asked softly after a few long moments.

"Is it ok if I say no?" Sam asked in return.

Dean smiled at him but it didn't touch his eyes. They were an odd color of pain mixed with anger. He nodded his head.

"Do you need anything?" Dean asked. Sam thought about it for a minute. He needed a lot. But, also nothing. And, especially nothing that he could ask this stranger for.

"Can you show me how to change this damn tire?" Sam asked.

Dean laughed at that and stood up, holding a hand out as an offer to Sam.

"Tomorrow." He said. Sam took his hand, feeling every fiber of their touching skin vibrating with intensity, and allowed Dean to lift him to his feet. Sam hadn't noticed how sore his feet were until now. They were covered in tiny cuts and scrapes. Also dirt, which was probably a bad combination. "Right now, you need to shower... and sleep." Dean stated.  
Dean walked to the door and looked back at Sam still standing motionless.

"You coming?" He asked. And Sam nodded, following Dean outside.

Right behind the garage was a tiny trailer. More of a camper really. He hadn't noticed it before. That's where Dean led them. He followed the boy in the door and stood awkwardly in the tiny room as Dean went to the kitchen.

"My bedroom is at the end of the hall, you can go get some clean clothes out of there. Shower is the only other door on the way. Help yourself." Dean offered and Sam just stared. Why was this stranger being so nice. Wait, maybe he isn't being nice... maybe he's a psycho. Probably not though, Bobby did know this guy's dad. He's pretty sure he would've heard if his son was a lunatic. He watched Dean in the kitchen and for some reason it seemed homely. The strong rugged mechanic all but fluttering around the small space. It was cute, Sam thought.

"You need something else?" Dean interrupted his train of thought.

"Oh, no. Sorry." He walked towards the bedroom in search of clothes, then took a much welcomed shower.

When Sam was done he walked back towards the living room. Dean was sitting on the end of the tiny couch with a newspaper in his hand.

"Feel better?" Dean asked without looking up.

"Yeah." Sam muttered, being awkward. He wiggled his toes, shifting the weight off of his sore feet.

"Come lay down. I know you're tired." Dean told him in a tone that sounded almost confused. He stood as Sam took a step towards the couch.

"You don't have to leave your own living room because of me." Sam told him. And Dean chuckled.

"Oh, I'm not. You're not that important." He threw Sam a slanted grin. "Be right back, make yourself comfortable."

Sam curled into a ball taking up half of the sofa. He still felt a little awkward. But, something about being here... being with Dean, he felt more at home than he ever remembered feeling. Dean was back in a few seconds with a small tube in his hands. Sam spotted it and sat up immediately. Fear washed over his body.

"What's that!" Sam squeaked out and moved swiftly away from Dean.

"Dude, it's antibiotic ointment. What's your problem?" Dean sat beside Sam and realization colored his face. Sam's turned red.

"Lube? Seriously, you thought-?" Dean sounded suddenly enraged, but he thought better of it and stopped talking. He remembered Sam's condition. The blood, the tears... he had no clue what had happened. He had no clue who Sam was, or what his story entailed.

"Sorry" Sam mumbled and crossed his arms over himself.

"No." Dean took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, just... it's neosporin. Let me fix your feet so they don't get infected."

Sam looked at him dumbly. Who was this dude? He wondered at the puzzle of this Dean creature as his feet were pulled out from under him, leaving him laying flat on his back. His feet were in Dean's lap being catered to. Even after Dean was done bandaging his feet neither of them said another word. Sam found sleep easily and this time it was uninterrupted.

When he woke the sun was low in the sky, it must've been late afternoon. He'd missed school. And, Bobby... oh my god, he'd forgotten about Bobby. Sam got to his feet and bolted. Or, tried to bolt but there was a blanket tangled around his ankles, and he was immediately reminded that his feet hurt. Bad. His landing was rough, he banged his head on the coffee table, and he sat there confused. There hadn't been a blanket when he'd went to sleep. Also, there'd been a Dean in here when he fell asleep too. Where had he gone? Sam stood up slowly, his entire body aching. He picked up the cover and walked softly to the bedroom to find Dean fast asleep, without a cover, and only in boxers. Apparently, Dean's body thought it was morning.

Sam's breath was taken away at the sight. Chiseled chest and soft tummy leading down to an obvious bulge in black boxers. Sam's heart beat quickened. It suddenly got hot in the trailer. The sun was shining softly against Dean's tanned skin. He wondered what it'd taste like. Everything about the boy was beautiful. Sam started to sweat. And panic. Yeah he's been doing that a lot lately. He went in the bathroom, and gripped the sink. He hadn't noticed that his dick had been paying attention... Since when has Sam been into guys? Never that's when. He didn't understand these feelings, and it just added to the confusion that was his life. His existential crisis was interrupted by knocking at the door.

"Everything ok in there?" It was Dean's voice heavy with sleep. And damn, the things it did to Sam's nervous system.

"Yeah, just... give me a sec." There was no response and Sam was grateful. He calmed himself down and tried not to think.

A few minutes later he came out of the bathroom and found that Dean had apparently picked the blanket up that he'd dropped in the doorway. Oh shit, that means that Dean knows Sam was standing in the doorway. Don't panic. Don't panic. You can't panic. Sam chanted to himself. He went into the living room to find Dean dressed, sitting with a thigh propped on the counter while drinking coffee.

"Morning" Sam spoke solemnly.

"Mhm." Dean grumbled.

Sam stood awkwardly by the door wondering what the social norm of leaving a situation like this was. He could just leave but that might be rude. He could hang out, but that might be lingering. And he really needed to call Bobby.

"Look man, I got work in an hour." Dean stated.

"Right, sorry. I'm leaving." Sam's face flushed and he turned quickly putting a hand on the doorknob.

"You can chill here if you want. I don't expect you to work today." Dean stood and tossed his cup into the sink letting it clank.

"Oh, I forgot about work. You gotta show me how to change that tire." Sam remembered. Dean let out a small laugh.

"You and that stupid tire." Dean mused as he followed Sam out the door.

"Oh, so the tire is the stupid one in this situation." Sam mocked.

"Well... I don't know about that." Dean teased.

"Hey!" Sam spun around and back handed Dean in the chest.

He froze. And Dean froze. Why did he just hit this guy. He was playing, but still. It was kind of hard, and who knew if Dean could take a joke. Sam had stopped breathing. He hadn't realized it until they both started laughing, breaking the tension. They started walking again.

"I hafta go change clothes. I'll bring these back, and we can get to work on that tire." Sam told him.

"I'll give you a ride." Dean told him.

"No, you've done enough. Really." Sam countered.

"I didn't ask if you wanted a ride. I told you I was giving you one." Dean gave him a tight smile that said he wasn't playing.

"Well ok then." Sam looked around the empty lot. "Where's your car?" He asked.

"In the shop. I'll be back in a minute." Dean disappeared into the garage and a few minutes later an older model bronco pulled up next to Sam. He got in and looked around nervously.

"So... how old are you really?" Sam asked him as they pulled out of the drive. Dean turned the radio up a little louder than Sam would've preferred.

"Eighteen." Dean answered and shot a side glance towards Sam. "You gonna tell me how old you are yet?"

"Fifteen" He said quietly.

"Holy shit, really?" Dean was shocked. "Dude, you're taller than me!"

Sam giggled, "Yeah I noticed."

"Hey. We're not gonna talk about it." Dean gave him a pretend threatening glare. Sam smiled to himself and looked out the window. "For real though. You just... seem older." Dean trailed off his sentence. He left something  
unspoken.

"You too." Sam replied thoughtfully. And it was the truth. Dean's strength, his charisma, even his authority was far beyond a typical eighteen year old. They rode silently for about a quarter mile. Dean turned the volume dial up a bit more.

"Really? Was that necessary?" Sam teased with his true opinion.

"You know what?" Dean asked sincerely.

"Hmm?" Sam grinned at Dean, releasing the full force of his dimples and bright eyes. Dean seemed to stutter a bit before looking back to the road and replying.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

Sam let out a nervous laugh. The interior of the vehicle was filled with tiny sparks of electricity bouncing off of each of them and onto the other. It left the molecules in the air excited. Excited, but warm yet comfortable.

"Isn't that sweet." Sam huffed. And Dean ignored it.

"This your driveway?" He asked.

"No the next one."

He pulled in and waited silently for Sam to get out. Sam felt like he was fighting with himself. Like, he knew he needed to get out and stop being weird. But, there was this palpable force pulling him closer to Dean. Like a spring that would break if Sam got too far away.

"Thank you, Dean." Sam stated, and looked over to Dean. "For everything." He tried to put as much meaning into the simple words as possible. Dean seemed to understand. He just nodded and smiled. There couldn't have been a better response.

"You want me to wait for you? I can give you a ride back." He offered.

"I noticed you asked that time." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, I can be nice every now and then." He deadpanned.

"I noticed that too." Sam spoke quietly. Dean didn't reply in any form to that, and it made Sam feel a little sick for no reason. "I'll be fine. See you in a bit." He opened the door and climbed out.

"Sure thing." He heard Dean say through the opened window. Then he heard the engine rev and the bronco was gone.  
________________________________________________________

"Bobby?" Sam closed the door. "Bobby, I'm home."

"Where the hell have you been boy?" Bobby's voice boomed, traveling towards him from down the hall.

"I'm so sorry. I fell asleep and I couldn't find a phone. I know you were worried." Sam apologized sincerely.

"Damn right I was worried." Bobby couldn't decide whether to be mad for Sam leaving, or glad that he was back. He noticed Sam's attire.

"Boy, whose clothes you got on?" He questioned suspiciously. Sam suddenly felt nervous. He fidgeted in his own skin.

"This guy from work. He offered me a place to stay last night, my feet were hurting too bad to come back home. And, it was late." Sam felt guilty for the wrong reasons.

"Your feet were hurtin'?" He asked with a quizzical expression.

"Yeah, I guess from leaving barefooted." He answered, ashamed.

"Right." Bobby's face darkened at the memory. "Boy from work, huh? He got a name?"

"Dean. It's John's son apparently. Why, you know him?" Sam asked.

Bobby's face turned stoic. Dark. And, the expression had nothing to do with last night.

"Something wrong?" Sam worried. Bobby didn't answer, didn't move. Sam wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

"Bobby?"

"No son, everything's fine." Bobby told him, and left without another word. Sam called after him, "Bobby, I'm going back to the garage in a minute, I promised I'd work." Bobby didn't answer, but Sam didn't care. He was going back to that garage. He finally had something to look forward to: Dean. And he wasn't even going to analyze that fact.

****

Bobby left the room without a word to Sam. He'd said, a guy from work. Dean. Dean from work. He spent the night at his house? The first night he'd met the boy. Bobby expected some issues at some point, but this? And this soon? He couldn't help the anxiety that set in. He picked up the phone and dialed for John.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was practically giddy when he returned to the garage a few minutes later. He was smiling for no reason and he had the energy of a bouncing rubber ball. Before he made it to the door Dean met him outside.

"Hey, I was thinking..." Dean spoke with hesitation as he walked closer to Sam.

"Uh oh!" Sam piped off.

Dean was blinded by the younger boy's grin, and taken back by his blatant sarcasm.

"Shut up," He said with a shy smile. "I was thinking that you could come with me to get some parts. We don't really have much in the shop to do anyway." He didn't miss the way the boy's face lit up. It made Dean's chest feel a little warmer.

"Sounds good. You driving?" Sam asked.

"Well you sure as hell ain't" Dean smirked and climbed into the vehicle with Sam in tow.

"What, are you scared?" He taunted.

"No, but I do value my life to some extent." He put the car in drive and turned the radio up as they drove away.

"You're such a loser." Sam told him flatly and looked out the window. He pretended not to notice the way that Dean's gaze lingered on him with a barely there smile. Sam watched the fluffly clouds blur past them. The windows were down welcoming fresh air to flow through the vehicle, and blow his shaggy hair into his eyes. The metal floorboard of the old Bronco vibrated beneath his feet, and Dean's weird music was blaring in his ears. He wallowed in the simplicity of the moment, and for the first time in his life he felt something more than contentment, he was happy. Even if it was just for a few minutes.

In the auto parts store Sam was completely lost. He followed Dean around, looking nervously at all the foreign objects. He bombarded Dean with endless questions. What's this? What's that? What do you use this for? What does it even do? "How do you know all this?" Finally Dean stopped him.

"Dude, chill the fuck out." He sat all of the stuff on the counter to pay for. Sam was immediately quiet and rigid. His face heated up and he felt like he'd been scolded.

"Sorry." He said, simply.

Dean handed the money over for the parts and as they were walking out the door he told Sam, "I didn't mean to sound like that, sorry."

"s'okay" Sam replied.

They both got into the Bronco silently. Dean sat there feeling like there was more space between them than there should be. He put his hands on the steering wheel and sat there. Thinking. Why does he have to snap over stupid shit all the time? Why does he care so much about this kid? Normally someone like Sam would get on his nerves. Oblivious, young, smart-mouthed, all of the things that Dean can't stand. But yet, all he wants to do is take care of the boy. He wants him to be happy, make his life easier, and he doesn't have a clue as to why. Dean feels such an odd, intense sense of protectiveness towards Sam. Protective, but something else too. Sometimes the boy sends shivers through Dean's entire being without even looking at him. His heart speeds up and tries to escape the confines of his chest.

"Where to now?" Sam asked, trying to ease the tension. It worked. Dean loosened his grip on the wheel and started the car.

"You hungry?" Dean asked him.

"Starving." And just like that, Sam was back to giddy. All anxiety forgotten, and as a result, Dean's too.

"What do you like?"

"Anything." He told him.

"Oh god, you're one of those people." Dean rolled his eyes and they were on the road again.

"Hey! Why don't you let me cook for you?" Sam offered excitedly.

"What?" Dean seemed confused.

"I owe you for last night anyway. Let me cook something. I'm good at it, promise."

After a long few minutes of contemplation he asked, "Are you sure? It's a lot of trouble."

"No it isn't. I want to. And, you could meet Bobby." Sam hadn't realized how hopeful he was until he heard Dean reply with a small confirmation. He felt like squealing, but before he did, he wondered who in the hell this person is that he'd become. He felt like an eleven year old with a crush. A crush... oh shit, that's what this is.

"So who is Bobby?" Dean continued the conversation.

Sam's posture straightened a little and his expression turned timid. Dean noticed.

"Is he who hurt you last night?" He asked, his face turned to stone.

"No. No, nothing like that." Sam paused. "He's my foster dad."

Dean thought about it for a moment. "Do you have any family here?" He tried to sound light-hearted.

"No. It's just me and Bobby." Sam stated flatly.

Dean could tell that the subject was touchy. He understood. Sam didn't know him, didn't trust him, didn't have any real reason to tell him his life story. But, that didn't make Dean's desire to hear it any lesser.

"All my life I've been in the system." Sam sighed, and continued talking while picking at his nails. "A lot of different places when I was younger. But, I've been with Bobby for the past few years. He says he'd been looking for me for a while, but I guess they keep those kinds of records pretty private."

Dean nodded and asked, "Looking for you?"

"Yeah. He says he knew my Dad way back in the day. Can't find him now though."

And there it was. The sadness. The reality. He knew he'd snap out of the good mood. He felt a little heavier than he had a few minutes ago.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Dean watched him with that pained expression back on his face. It wasn't pity like most people's, it was different but Sam couldn't explain it. He forced the corners of his mouth to turn slightly up, in Dean's direction as an acknowledgement. He looked away immediatley. He couldn't let Dean see how broken he was. Sam noticed the rock music got a little quieter, more mellow for the rest of the ride. They pulled into Sam's driveway and Dean cut the motor. The boys looked at each other before either of them moved.

"You sure you're up for cooking? It's cool if you don't feel like it." Dean spoke with concern that warmed Sam's soul.

"I'm cooking." Sam perked up. "And, that's that." Sam got out of the Bronco and when he was halfway up the sidewalk he called back to Dean, "You're not getting very far without your keys!" He held up a shining set of keys above his head and let them jingle. "Might as well come in."

Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. That sneaky little bitch. How in the hell could he have grabbed those keys from the ignition without him noticing? Weird. He got out and followed Sam into the trailer.

"Bobby, this is Dean." Sam called to the older man sitting on the couch, as Sam walked behind the counter to start cooking. "I'm making us Dinner."

Dean stood awkwardly in the doorway as the old stranger stared at him blankly. He couldn't figure out if the man was angry, confused, sad, happy... all of the above, Dean had never seen the expression before. It took the man an eternity to even move. Let alone speak. Finally, the man stood and walked slowly to Dean, to stare at him face to face with sad eyes.

"Dean. Nice to meet you. Bobby, I presume?" Dean held a hand out to shake, praying for the man to react and the awkwardness to go away. He didn't know what hit him when he felt a strong hand clasp into the cloth of the back of his shirt. The man pulled him close and squeezed him without a seconds warning. Dean confused, didn't want to offend the strange man. He patted Bobby's back a few times and tried to pull away. The first time it didn't work, the man's grip seemed to have tightened.

"Bobby? You're being weird again." Sam called flatly from behind the cabinets as he was pouring something into a sauce pan.

"Sorry, kid." Bobby let go of Dean. He stood straight and cleared his throat. "It happens," He replied to Sam then turned his attention back to Dean. "Nice to meet you, boy."

Dean knew the entire situation was odd, to say the least. But, as weird as the man was behaving, it was equally comforting. It was like he'd missed this man that he'd never even met. Dean felt a cold chill run through his body, and he fought back the sudden desire to hug the man again.

"So, Sam's cooking. Should I be worried?" Dean spoke lightly as he followed the man to a seat on the couch.

"Nah, he's pretty good at it." Bobby told him. "Granted, I don't have much to compare it to." He added, with a small crooked smirk.

"Whatever, Bobby. You can't even make grilled cheese." Sam fought back.

"Exactly my point." Bobby stated flatly and flicked on the old floor model TV.

"What are we eatin' anyway?" Dean asked nervously, eyeing Sam's actions.

"Shit. If you guys keep on."

Bobby and Dean both laughed and let the room fall into a comfortable silence.

A few quiet curse words, splatters, and about twenty minutes later, Sam told Bobby the food was done as he handed Dean a bowl.

He looked at it with an odd expression. "Thanks... What is it?" He asked.

"Alfredo." Sam answered. When Dean didn't move and continued eyeing the bowl Sam urged him, "It's like spaghetti but with white sauce and chicken. Just try it."

"I'm scared." Dean mocked. Sam let out an offended huff and back handed Dean, as he laughed and relaxed beside him. He watched out of his peripheral vision as Dean took a micro-sized bite. His whole body was content with Dean's suprised expression.

"Damn..." He said, then looked at Bobby regretfully. "Sorry, sir." Sam laughed again at him.

"He doesn't care if you cuss." He told him. But, Bobby corrected.

"He's lyin' to you, boy. There ain't no damn cussin' allowed in this shitty ass trailer." He told him, then threw a smile at him. Dean returned it knowingly.

"This is really good, Sam." Dean told him.

"See, I told you." Sam teased.

"You did." Dean admitted. "I don't think I've ever had home-made food before." He added.

"Seriously?" Sam asked him. He couldn't hide the shock on his face.

"Yeah. When I was younger it was just me and Dad. He doesn't cook so I guess I never learned either." Dean spoke despite his mouthful of pasta.

"Well, I might have to teach you a few things." Sam teased words from their first interaction. Dean's entire body heated up, and he nodded his head. Sam laughed at the boy's response, Bobby didn't seem to notice the exchange.

After they finished eating they all watched TV together for a while. They laughed at all of the same things, and everything at the moment felt like it had fallen perfectly into place. Bobby excused himself to turn in for the night sometime around nine thirty.

Sam, still sitting beside Dean, eyed him observantly. He assessed the boy's mood, his demeanor, and their day together. He wondered if Dean felt any of the same bolts of electricity that he had been. Did Dean feel an inexplicable need to be near him? To know him?

Dean stared at the TV, not letting Sam see that he wasn't paying attention to it. He had spent the entire evening fighting the urge to scoot closer to the younger boy. He fought the urge to ask more questions about his life, his foster families, how he learned to cook, why he moved here. Dean could feel Sam assessing him. Without taking his eyes off of the TV he hooked his elbow around Sam's neck, he knocked him down, pulled him closer.

Sam pretended to fight him for half a second. Then, he settled his head in the crook of Dean's shoulder. He still watched the TV as he scooted his back closer into Dean's side. The older boy let his arm wrap around Sam. His hand rested on the boys chest, and Dean just stared down at the top of his head. The kid was going to be the death of him, he thought. But, somehow the life too. He wanted both of his arms around the boy. To hold him close, squeeze him tight. But, for right now this would have to do. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of the younger boy's head. Then, he turned his cheek to rest it on Sam's hair as they both watched TV and fell asleep. Neither of them woke up when Bobby left sometime in the early morning hours for work. Neither of them woke up until the flames found Sam again.

　

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut. I'd also say dubious consent since they don't know they're brothers. Some of this has the potential to be triggering... this chapter doesn't exactly have a happy ending, so you've been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at editing. My brain works faster than my fingers type, and then it just gets all muddled when I re-read it a million times. Feel free to correct me :)

He felt the flames take him. He screamed in agony as the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. His lungs tightened and struggled to function. Sam could feel the wicked heat melting his skin, scalding his bones. He cried out but the sound was swallowed by the darkness. All he could hear was the sound of his own skin sizzling, and the flickering crackling sound of the horrid flames. His muscles wouldn't work to raise himself from the disaster. He wasn't sure if he even had muscles left on his frame. The pain was endless, he prayed for death. Anything that would allow this to be over. He fought in his head as his body lay limp, burning to ashes with his mind still alive. Sam closed his eyes and willed himself to go numb. It meant he couldn't fight anymore. He had to allow himself to burn, but at least he wouldn't have to struggle any longer. There was no pain. But, in the same way that he couldn't feel the hurt, he also couldn't remember the feel of pleasure. No more happy memories to cling to. Simply numb was all he became. He let his eyes stay shut, and his mind go blank. He didn't even beg for mercy. The indifference didn't allow him to care.

Time wasn't a thing in his mind anymore. He didn't know how long he had been burning. Or even if he still was. But, he felt himself be lifted above the flames. He was curled against something stone. Stone, warm,... safe. Sam was scared to let himself think of this as reality. Or maybe he had finally died. He remained motionless as he felt arms wrap around him. Strong and inviting, they held onto Sam as if they protected him from life itself. Sam needed to know if this was real. Had he really been saved? Was the misery truly over? He opened his eyes and they were met with an ocean of green staring back at him in wander. They shone love, protection, refuge. The sound of his name escaped the beautiful boy's lips. It rang with the grace of an angel. He had no choice but oblige to it. He had to repay him.

Dean was woken by the sudden thrashing of Sam beside him. The boy was letting out blood curdling screams that shook Dean to the depths of his soul. What could possibly be happening in this kid's mind to render that? Sweat beaded on Dean's forehead as his nerves stirred. He couldn't wake him. He grasped at his shoulders, shaking, calling his name. He couldn't get a response. He couldn't make this better. He called louder to Sam, begging him to wake up.

Dean rolled to face Sam directly, he used the weight of his body to still the younger boys flailing. Dean, on top of Sam, brushed the hair from his face. He curled a lock behind the boy's ear as he bent to rest his forehead in the crook of Sam's neck.

"Wake up" He begged. Dean nuzzled his nose against the sweaty skin, turning his mouth near Sam's ear.

"Sammy, please..." he crooned. But, the silence stretched forever. Every moment of it digging a hole a little deeper into Dean.

He felt a weak hand paw at his back. His head shot up to look Sam in the eyes. The boy was oddly calm for the situation. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He collapsed onto Sam when his muscles relaxed, and the tension in his body dissolved.

"You ok?" He asked him. "God, was'so worried." He felt Sam relax beneath him but he didn't hear a reply. Dean met the younger boys hazel eyes again, they were awefilled.

"You saved me..." Sam spoke in a whisper that was almost a question. Dean didn't know how to respond, but he wasn't given the opportunity to. Sam's mouth was devouring his in a needy heated movement.

It took Dean a second to contemplate. Was this ok? Was he taking advantage of the situation? Of Sam? Either way, this was too fast. Dean has never been with a guy, never had the desire to be until he met Sam. He actually hadn't pegged these emotions for desire until about ten seconds ago. Before they'd seemed almost paternal, brotherly, maybe with just a hint of this. Sam dug his fingertips into Dean's ass and rolled his hips up as his hands forced Dean down. When Sam let out a moan that was breathed into Dean, that's when Dean stopped thinking.

He kissed the younger boy back. Licking down into his mouth, their tongues fighting for space. Fighting for territory in the others' mouth. Dean pulled away to breathe as he ground his hips down against Sam, letting him feel his hardening erection. Sam lifted up into him, returning the favor to Dean. They both felt the others' hardness against their own, and rode against it. Sam let out a needy moan and Dean returned his lips to Sam's. He dug in deeper, licking the roof of his mouth. His heart sank when he let his hand find Sam's crotch. He palmed at the bulge without hesitation, pushing down into the denim hard. Sam rose into the action, begging for more. He pulled his mouth away from Dean's so he could find the older boy's zipper. Sam pushed Dean's pants to his thighs and grabbed onto his bobbing cock as it sprang free. Dean froze in surprise, but let out a gutteral groan.

Sam jerked Dean, squeezing and tugging his veiny cock while watching the reactions on the older boy's face. Dean's eyes closed and he fucked into Sam's fist, while supporting his weight by his arms on either side of Sam's shoulders. Sam swiped the globs of moisture from Dean's swollen cock head with his thumb. He added a twist of his wrist and jerked Dean faster. Sam felt his own dick twitching from the sight above him. With one hand furiously stroking Dean's cock, he let his other hand play at the crack of Dean's ass. His eyes shot open when he felt the flat press of a finger at his entrance.

His eyes were fuck blown, his face dripping sweat. He looked at Sam and couldn't keep fear from showing. Sam pulled his finger away, and kneaded at the boy's plump ass cheeks. He leaned up to kiss Dean, softer this time. Slower, and he matched it to the pace of his hand on the boy's dick.

"It's okay" Sam whispered. He kissed Dean again without tongue, just sucking at his bottom lip. He pulled away breathless. "Trust me."

Dean closed his eyes and timidly pushed his ass back into Sam's hand. Sam went back to playing at his hole. The puffy entrance was a furnace. He pressed a fingertip in to breach the first tight ring of muscle. But Dean pulled away before he could move. His ass escaping Sam's hand.

The younger boy still slowly stroking Dean's leaking cock, put his other hand to Dean's mouth. He touched his first two fingers against Dean's lip softly, and Dean opened. He sucked, like he knew that's what he was supposed to do. He moaned at the taste and Sam couldn't help his own hips from snapping up against Dean. He was scared of cumming in his pants. Dean suckled the fingers, savoring the taste, getting them sloppy wet while he fucked down into Sam's fist. He felt the subtle rolls of hips against him, and it made his balls ache. They felt heavy. Too heavy. Dean started panting when Sam pulled his fingers from his mouth and put them back at his ass.

"Sam..." Dean breathed, throwing his head back in exhertion.

"Just wait, baby" Sam purred and thrust his first digit inside of Dean, knuckle deep. He let out a startled groan as Sam dug in deeper. He quickened the stroke of Dean's dick, and pressed harder into his heat. He spun his fingers in circles, crooking it, and fucking in with force. Dean arched into it, seating his ass onto Sam's knuckles and digging for more. "nnggh" he moaned, "Jesus" He cried out when Sam sent lightening bolts into him through his ass. Every fiber of his being buzzed with pleasure. He was so close to cumming.

He whined at the sudden loss when Sam's hand abandoned him. His eyes blew wide in need and confusion. Sam with a hand on his chest pushed Dean up off of him. He guided him to sit instead of lay. Dean let his hands fall at Sam's hips. Despite his own desperate need to come, he had a sudden electrifying desire to see Sam's dick. As Sam straddled Dean's lap, he used the time to get Sam's pants off of him. He ogled the heavy cock twitching in front of his face. It was drooling moisture and Dean wanted nothing more than to taste him. Before Sam could stop him, Dean guided Sam's hips to his face. He took in Sam's heated cock, sucking all the liquid off. He moaned at the taste of Sam. Bitter but musky. The taste of a man, and Dean wanted more. He sunk his greedy mouth deeper onto Sam's length, and used his hands to push his ass in closer. It was impossible to get him all in. Sam's dick was a monster. Bigger than Dean had ever even heard of. The girth alone was scary. But oh so inviting. Dean hummed pleasure around Sam's swelling oozing cock. Sam stilled his hips and let Dean work. He put a hand into Dean's short hair and encouraged him. Sam was pretty sure he had died and went to heaven. His lower belly tightened. The heat was building. He was coming. His entire body shook with pleasure as he shot his load into Dean's welcoming throat. He sucked him like a he was a faucet, loving every ounce of Sam he could get. When Sam ran dry, Dean licked softly at his slit. Like he was hoping for more. Sam straightened up and pulled his softening dick from Dean's mouth.

Dean could've shot right then, just from the taste in his mouth. He didn't expect Sam to aim Dean's painfully hard prick to his entrance. He sunk down onto him without a second of preparation.

"Dear god... Sammy" Dean groaned and pulled Sam's face to his own. He bit into Sam's mouth. Kissing hungrily at the other boy's lips. Sam could taste himself on Dean's tongue. He still couldn't believe that a guy this hot would ever even consider touching him. He needed to make him feel good. He needed to repay him. For everything.

Sam rocked forward on Dean's cock. He lifted his body up and thrust himself back down. He couldn't help making noises of his own.

"Fuuuck" Sam growled. He let his head fall onto Dean's shoulders as he rode the boy's lap. He hooked a hand around Dean's neck and used it as leverage. He pulled himself up and slammed himself down repeatedly.

"More Dean, I need more" He panted and bounced faster on the older boys lap. The words sent sparks through Dean's dick.

"I need you, make you feel good" Sam groaned and begged Dean to give him more. Dean's own moans were coming when Sam's force of thrusts, made the air leave Dean's lungs.

"Fuck me. Fuck me, Please" He begged and whined, riding Dean desperately. The sound of his ass slapping Dean's flesh filled the room.

Dean was doing all that he could not to blow his load. But, he needed to make Sam happy and Sam wanted more. He needed to give him more. Dean found the strength in himself to switch their positions. He laid Sam onto his back and started fiercly humping into the boy. He cradled his head in his hands as he buried his dick in the kid's ass. He pulled the hair, moving Sam's head back, exposing his neck. Dean leaned down to lick at the sweat on it. He needed any taste of Sam that he could get.

He thrust in, feeling his dick hitting something solid within Sam.

"Use me" Sam cried. "Fuck me through these couch springs."

"Feel so good, Sam." Dean let his head fall back. "God, fucking amazing" He panted and rolled his hips, slapping his heavy balls against Sam's ass.

"Hurt me" Sam choked out. "Make me your whore" The words struck a sick feeling withing Dean, but he kept thrusting.

"Harder" Sam demanded. Euphoria started to leave Dean. He still pounded, but was warding off concern.

"Need more. Give me more. Please" Sam whined desperatley. And, Dean did want to make it good for him. He put his last burst of energy into a harder thrust. Sam let out a yelp, loud enough to startle Dean's rhythm. Dean looked at the boy's face for the first time in a while. He went still and looked at Sam with shocked eyes. Tears were rolling down Sam's face, and Dean's heart sank.

"No..." Dean muttered with confusion. "No. No, Sam." Dean pulled out of the younger boy. His dick immediately going soft when he saw the blood covering them.

"Why didn't you tell me!" Dean started to panic. He pulled up his pants and cradled Sam's face in his hands. Sam tried to get free of them.

"No, Dean. Keep going." He commanded. His voice contrasting his physical state. Dean stared in horror. "I need you, Dean. I need more." He begged with everything in him. Dean wiped the hair from Sam's sweaty face. He eyed the tear stains, and the moisture still welling in his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked in a horrified whisper.

Sam broke. He curled in on himself and shook violently. The tears he had tried to hold back were escaping with a vengence. Dean looked on in terror.

"You don't want me?" Sam choked out between sobs. Dean grabbed the boy. Scooped him off the couch and cradled him in his arms. Sam tried to look away but didn't have the energy to try and get down. Dean held the adult sized teenager like he had the weight of a feather. He held tightly onto him and carried him towards the bathroom. He didn't want to look Sam in the eyes. The sight was too painful.

"I want you, Sam" He told him robotically. "But, I won't hurt you." Dean could feel the crack in his voice when he added that part.

He used his foot to turn on the faucet. He sat Sam on the side of the bathtub and removed the boy's shirt. Dean hid the shock from his face when he saw the burn scars covering most of Sam's torso. He let the shirt fall to the floor and he paused for a second contemplating the situation. His heart sank and his lungs swelled with grief. Sam was staring at the ground. His arms hugging himself. He sat their motionless, speechless. Dean knelt beside the nude, broken young man. He could feel his own tears playing at his eyes, but he forced them back. He had to be strong. For Sam.

Dean moved a fraction of a second at a time, as he slowly pressed a timid kiss to Sam's forehead. He held his lips there against the clammy skin. He begged himself to stay strong. He felt a shiver run through the boy. Dean pulled away and guided Sam into the filling tub. Sam still didn't move. He didn't speak. He wasn't crying. He stared blankly into space with empty, distant eyes. Dean dampened the boy's hair. He used a wrung out wash cloth to pat the tear stains from his face. He shampooed Sam's nappy hair. Sam closed his eyes when Dean massaged into his scalp. Dean felt a silent tiny victory. He tilted Sam's head back and slowly rinsed his hair. He lathered the rag and washed over Sam's back, his chest, he felt sick when he washed between the boy's legs. He washed away the remnants of whatever had just happened. Dean let water trickle over the boy's skin, rinsing him.

He let the water drain, and he wrapped Sam in a beach towel. He held Sam tight and lifted him again. This time it felt more like an embrace. Sam let his head fall against Dean's shoulder. Dean reminded himself to be strong when he felt another pull of his heart string. He carried the boy to his bedroom. And dressed him in pajamas. Dean laid the boy down, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. He stared into his eyes, silently trying to figure him out. He absently let a hand loll through Sam's hair. He paused with it resting at the side of his face, as he gave him a meaningful soft look. Dean couldn't find words. He wanted to force a smile, something, but nothing came. He straightened and went to leave the room. Before he could pull his hand away Sam grabbed weakly at it. Dean turned with frantic speed, afraid something had happened. Sam still seemed calm.

"Stay" He mouthed at Dean with pleading eyes. Dean didn't know if he'd be strong enough, but he had to try. He nodded and climbed on top of the covers beside Sam. Dean layed on his side with his arms crossed, facing Sam. He closed his eyes and wished he could take everything back. God, what did he do to this boy? Someone so precious, that he barely knew, yet loved so much... how could this have happened? He was praying for Sam's forgiveness when he felt a skinny arm wrap around his waist. Sam rested his head against Dean's arm and clung to his waist. Dean felt himself start to relax. The weight started to lift from his chest, and his eyes weren't clenched anymore. Just shut. He heard Sam's breathing change, and he laid there wishing he could sleep too. He wished he could go back in time. He wanted to prevent the whole thing from happening, but more than that, he wanted to go back in time and save Sam from whatever it was that has broken him so deeply.

Dean lay there for hours, not moving so not to disturb Sam. He tried to make his mind empty, but that was a lot easier said than done. For right now he tried to be content with the fact that Sam was resting. They laid there until Dean heard the bedroom door open, Bobby stood in the doorway with wide eyes. Dean craned his neck to look at the man who had gone white.

　

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Angsty-
> 
> Sorry the updates are so slow! Things have been crazy, but this won't be abandoned. Thank you to you guys who keep encouraging, it makes me happy :-)

The next few seconds stretched longer than an hour. Dean didn't dare budge from Sam's side, but Bobby's stare was more than unwelcoming. Bobby cleared his throat, shook his head, and looked at the floor. Another long minute passed before the man spoke.

"I need to uh..." Bobby was on the verge of passing out. "I need to talk to you before he wakes up." He still didn't look at Dean.

The young man wasn't sure what was going on. He could understand Bobby being upset, but this seemed like so much more than anger. It didn't seem like anger at all, really. Dean contemplated.

"He needs me right now." Dean spoke sadly, but with full guard up. Bobby's face was pouring sweat, his eyes blown.

"After we talk if you wanna come back in here, then that's up to you." He told Dean skeptically. Bobby waited and Dean gave him a confirming nodd. First, he pulled Sam a bit tighter for a moment and savored it. Loving the warmth of the boy against him, the quiet contentness of his restful sleep. He dreaded leaving the boy alone in bed, leaving them both colder. Dean pressed a soft kiss to the still damp hair before shifting himself to stand. He paused at the door of the room for a long moment before he quietly closed the door behind him.

He found Bobby sitting at the small dining table with his face in his hands and his foot bouncing ninety miles per hour. Dean's stomach twisted in knots. He coughed lightly, getting the older man's attention.

Bobby looked up, with fear blatant on his face. Dean prepared himself to go on the defensive.

"What happened?" Bobby croaked. It wasn't what Dean had expected to hear, and he didn't know the answer. Let alone how to explain it.

"He had a nightmare." Dean said curtly. Bobby nodded and continued fidgeting. He sorted through his words mentally.

"What else?" He asked. Everything about the man seemed like he knew, but was begging for Dean to tell him different. Dean didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what Bobby wanted to hear.

"Look, he does this thing. He gets close to people... and then, he... gets "closer" if you know what I mean. There are things about him- about his past. His foster homes were bad, Dean. They messed him up." Bobby's leg stopped bouncing and he looked up to meet Dean's angry glare.

Dean ignored the way that the words stabbed his heart and twisted their blade. He couldn't deal with that feeling right now. He couldn't think about what that meant.

"What are you tryin' to say?" He spat at the older man. "Are calling him a whore? Is that where he got that from?" Dean was ready to fight, his chest was pounding, his fists were balled.

"God no! No, Dean. He just, it's complicated." Bobby deflated.

"Well uncomplicate it." Dean demanded. Bobby pondered for a long few minutes, but Dean didn't budge.

"There's no easy way to tell you. It's not even my place. But, I can't wait for your daddy to do it." He spoke defeated.

"My 'Daddy'" Dean let out a small humorless laugh. "What do you know about him?"

"A lot more than you apparently." Bobby told him emotionless. Dean was taken back. He didn't know what to ask, where to start, or what to say.

"When Sam was a baby, his mother suffered delusions. She thought the boy was bad. Evil, even. She was sick, Dean. Real sick." Dean's stomach tightened and turned as Bobby spoke. "He was less than a year old when she tried to kill him. Set the house on fire with herself and him in it. Thought she was doing the world a favor." Bobby paused for an eternity, and Dean's heart slowed to a near stop. "Your dad, John, only had time to get you out before the flames were too high to go back in for Sam. The firefighters saved him, but it was too late for Mary." Bobby looked up to see Dean, both of them pale and time being meaningless. Dean's mind was blank. "See, uh... while Sam was in the hospital, the police put him in child protective services. The police knew the fire was arson, and John was the only one to blame. So, he panicked. He took you, and he ran." Bobby sat silently while Dean's brain creaked to a crawl. Beginning to work, he started sputtering.

"No." Dean spoke. "No, he's not. It's not..." Dean paced the kitchen, his heart speeding up. "You're lying!" He tried to yell, but his voice broke. Bobby stood and grabbed ahold of Dean's shoulders. Holding him tight.

"I'm not. You have to believe me, Dean. And there's more you need to know." Bobby begged him to listen. His voice filled with comfort.

"No-" Dean tried to get away, but Bobby's grip tightened. He stilled, and let it all sink in. "He can't be my brother." Dean spoke in a whisper and then he broke. His tears betrayed him by spilling onto his face. His breath came broken and ragged, his entire body shaking. Bobby wrapped his arms around him. Holding the young man close. He shh'ed him. And waited for Dean to calm. Finally he pulled away, this time slowly so Bobby allowed it. He looked into the old man's tired eyes, with tears welling in his own.

"I should've saved him, Bobby." Dean started, and Bobby tried to stop him, "No, Dean-" but, the boy cut him off. "He's my little brother, I should've protected him. I should've saved him." Dean couldn't look at the man again.

"You were a child, Dean. There's no way that you could've." Bobby tried to reason. But Dean wasn't having it. He backed away from Bobby and towards the door.

"Tell him I'm sorry." Dean paused. God... "I'm so sorry" Dean was gone before Bobby could say anything else.

\---------------------------

Sam woke up with tired eyes and an empty bed. He should've know he'd scare Dean off. He turned over and curled up, wrapping his arms around himself. Reality came crashing into his mind, scarring his fresh wounds raw again. He knew Dean had been too kind, more so than he'd ever deserved. He didn't repay him, he couldn't, he wasn't good enough to. Now Dean was gone, his body and his heart was aching. The rubber band had recoiled against him and dear God, did it sting. He wallowed until he'd torn himself into unrecognizable pieces. And then, he did it again.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam slowly found consciousness. He tried to open his eyes but his body resisted. He laid there while his sleep muddled mind started to process his reality. He could tell by the feel of the bed that he was still alone in it, and he wasn't surprised. Of course Dean would leave him, why wouldn't he? Sam knew he needed to get up, that Bobby would be getting worried soon. He knew there were things that needed to be done, but that was all logic. Mentally, emotionally, irrationally he thought, screw logic. There wasn't an ounce of motivation in his body. Not even a trace of energy to be found. He could lay in that bed forever and not think another second about it. But, he had to be rational. Logic won. His feet begrudgingly found the floor and he was forced to join the land of the living.

Sam didn't know what time of day it was, or even what day in general. He felt like he'd been in a coma. His body dragged him to the kitchen and he was shocked into awareness at the sight of Bobby sitting at the small table. With John, Dean's dad. Sam stood still and silently prepared himself for a hit. Bobby must've found out about what happened between him and Dean. He must've told John. This had to be the 'talk' he didn't know he was dreading until now. He knew it was wrong for two boys to be together, but he wasn't even into guys. It was just Dean. And that fact aside, it didn't matter anymore. Dean would never speak to him again, especially now. Sam didn't realize he still hadn't moved until Bobby spoke.

"Sam, you know John." Bobby spoke stoically, motioning to the man sitting adjacent of him. They both looked tired. Exhausted really.

"Dean's dad, right?" Sam found his voice. Something in it made John's face color with sorrow. He didn't know why.

"Actually," Bobby started to speak, but his words seemed lost. "We need to talk to you."  
Sam's heart dropped. He didn't know whether to collapse, or run with panic. He still couldn't move.

"You might wanna sit down." John spoke softly. Sam just eyed him but didn't move. John didn't push. After a long few minutes Bobby nodded at John, seemingly a signal to speak.

"Ok, then." John paused and his eyes fell to his clasped hands. "Dean's gone, Sam. I don't know where-" John continued speaking but Sam didn't hear it. His ears rang with silence and his heart pounded through his chest. Dean was gone. What did that mean? Did he leave? Or, is something wrong. The thought of Dean being in danger was enough to spark a will stronger than he'd ever felt in his life. He started to process John's words again.

"-you to find him." John stopped when Bobby interrupted him. "Now, isn't the time to tune us out, boy."  
Sam shook his head a fraction then made eye contact with Bobby. Giving him a deathly glare.

"Where would he have gone?" Sam asked. 

"We don't know. He's never done anything like this before." John told him.

"Is he okay?" 

"Physically, I've got to assume so. God knows the boy can take care of himself. But, Sam, we had to tell him something. Something that made him leave." John's words were swallowed, leaving something unsaid.

"You made him leave? What did you say to him?!" Sam was suddenly enraged. He knew he was lanky but he'd give everything he had in a fight, if either of these men had hurt Dean. Sam's chest filled with an irate tension. He took a quick step towards John. He had such tunnel vision that he hadn't seen Bobby coming towards him. He was slammed sideways, pinned to the wall. Sam looked with wide eyes at Bobby, who'd never laid a hand on him. The older man stared back, with a forearm braced against Sam. Neither of them spoke. Neither let out a breath. Both of them shocked. John stood and slowly motioned them apart. Bobby deflated and turned away, his face to the ground. His shoulders were shaking. 

Sam turned tear filled eyes towards John.

"What makes you think I can find him?" Sam whispered. His throat clenching around the words. "What if he doesn't want me to find him?"  
John sighed and it seemed as if everything in the man was exhaled from him. All of the energy, the strength, power, or anything else you could say the man had. It all left him at that moment.

"Because, Sam. You're his brother."  
Sam stood still against the wall. The silence was deafening. The tension was telling of John and Bobby's expectations for him to break. They were waiting for it.

"That's why he left?" Sam asked, oddly calm. He was met by two surprised faces. Clearly they'd expected more from him.

"What?" He asked. "You didn't think I've known? You thought I'd fall apart, and go crazy?" Sam stood himself up straight, speaking with a newly found confidence. Neither of the men could find words through their shock. "Do either of you honestly believe I've never looked into my family history? I mean, I spent ten years in foster home after foster home, with any scum bag under the sun that the system could find to stick me with. You don't think any of them ever used my story against me?" Sam started pacing. His rage taking control of his legs. 

"You couldn't imagine how many times I've heard, "suck daddy's dick, or I'll set fire to ya like yer momma did"... Or, "No wonder your family abandoned you, you unappreciative little fuck." and you wondered why I 'let' them abuse me." Sam stopped. He spun to face their wide regretful eyes. His heart slowed.

"You think I didn't look into why you brought me here?" He said, looking at Bobby. "That I wouldn't recognize 'Winchester' from the file with my original birth certificate... or wonder, 'why Kansas?' I'm not stupid you guys." He was silent for a moment, and he calmed himself. "Fucked up, maybe, but not stupid."  
Sam turned and left the room, then the house. Neither of the older men could find a way to make their minds work. They couldn't find the words to console him, or to stop him. 

\-----------------------------

Sam let himself in Dean's unlocked trailer. It was empty, which he'd expected. He looked around for any signs of where he could've went. He looked for pictures, papers, anything that would give him some kind of hint. He knew Dean wouldn't want to see him. He didn't deserve for him to. But, he needed to know he was ok. He wanted to apologize, and to make sure he was safe, and then he could be on his way. He knew he couldn't go back to Bobby's now. Not after admitting to snooping all these years, knowing the things that he did, and especially not if they knew what he'd allowed to happen with him and Dean. With him and his brother...  
Sam went to Dean's bedroom and rummaged through drawers. There wasn't much to be found. Dean wasn't into material things, and it seems as if he had intentionally lived as though he could up and leave any second. After nearly a half hour of digging he found an old notebook. Or, journal. It was brown and stained. Obviously had been through years of use and tatters. Sam with a hopeful heart opened it, and read the first page. The handwriting was scribbled, like it was of unsure hands. Some words were misspelled. It seemed to be the letters of a child. 

 

**_Nov 2, 1985_ **

**_Dear Dad,_ **

**_Its been to years since Sammy left. Sumtimes I miss him. Well all the times I miss him. But I no youll find him. When im in the car for a long time sumtime i just feel like he shud be in the empty seet beside me. I hope you find him soon._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Dean_ **

Sam stared at the age stained page. He did the math in his head, Dean would have been six years old. His heart hurt for the little boy that had wrote that letter. The little boy who had missed his brother. Who'd missed him. Sam flipped through some pages.

_**Nov. 27, 1986** _

_**Dear Dad,** _

_**Today was Thanksgiving. I don't really no what that means. But, I kinda wish you couldve been here with me. I feel so alone sometime. I wish i had a friend. If Sammy was here i know hed be my best friend. Dad i know your working and its hard and its important but I just wish you would remember Sam more. I dont want you to forget to look for him. God i miss him. I just hope hes alright and maybe he can feel how much i love him. i know it seems impossible but hopfully he just no's.** _  
_**i made you some grilled cheese and put them on the night stand for you. hopfully you feel better tomorow. That pretty woman that was here today helped me move the pans to a lower shelf. So maybe i can cook for you more often and itll help you feel good. I gotta go its almost 3 in the morning i just no youll be home soon and you dont like it when im awake so late.** _

_**Love,** _

_**Dean** _

 

Halfway through the book.

 

_**September 16, 1991** _

_**Dad,** _

_**I wish you wouldn't drink so much. I dont know why you cant just be happy without it. Its not like it makes you happy anyway. Am I that hard to be around? I try really hard. I truly do. I know when youre feeling bad, I try to leave you headache pills out. I do the laundry and the dishes. Im hardly ever messy. I just wish you could be happy. Ive missed a lot of school lately and I know you need your sleep but Im already so behind in class. I dont know what to do. Im sorry i'm not good enough. I know that Sammy wouldve been. I bet he's really smart. He was even as a baby. Hes probably one of those dorky boy genious types... I wish he was here. I wish i could ask you to look for him. I dont know why you wont. God i miss him.** _

_**Dean** _

 

Sam's entire being ached. He wished he could've been there with Dean. He would've made him feel better. He wouldn't have ever had to feel alone. He wouldn't have let Dean put up with John acting this way. He'd give anything to take this pain from Dean. He'd deserved a childhood. Damn John for not giving him one.  
Sam flipped through to the back of the book. It seemed as if there had been years where Dean had quit writing. But the last one was only a few days ago.

 

**_God, or whoever's out there,_ **

**_There's this guy I met today. He's starting work at the shop, and man, he gets on my nerves. He doesn't seem to know his head from his asshole._ **

 

Sam's stomach twisted a little, scared of what Dean's opinion of him would be.

 

_**But, damn. I know my life's messed up and i shouldn't drag anybody into it, but if there ever would be someone I'd want to spend time with, to get close to or whatever. It'd be him. I don't remember a lot about Sam, besides the way I felt about him. The way I missed him and still do. I know it's probably stupid to think about but i think if my brother could've picked somebody for me to open up to, i think it'd be this guy. And how weird is it that his name's even Sam. So, God if you exist, thanks for bringing this kid into my life.** _

_**Dean** _

 

He was relieved and his heart swelled. He wanted to tell Dean that he wasn't a mess. That he deserved so much more than he could ever imagine. And to tell him that his brother loves him too. Sam turned the page.

 

**_God_ **

**_I know this is long but I haven't written in so long. I feel like there's just so much on my chest and there's no way to get it off. Especially about Sam. Its so weird that I'm just drawn to him like Ive never been to anyone. Ive never really had a home, but if i did, i think it would feel the same as the way i feel with him. I'm scared, man. I don't know what this feeling is. If i give into it it might kill me. I think i might like him more than a friend. I don't know what that means. I'm definitely not gay. But, there's just something about him. I cant describe it. I bet Sammy would be so dissapointed in this thing Ive become. What kind of a big brother am i? One who likes other guys? One who writes sappy notes in a fucking journal? One who's too fucked up to have any actual friends so I spend all my time in a damn garage or sitting around alone? I wish i could talk to my little brother. I wonder what kind of person he is now. I wonder if he even knows i exist. I don't want to let someone else fill the void the he left in my life so long ago. I don't deserve to be whole. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save my dad from himself. I can't even save myself. I just wanna know Sammy. I wanna tell him I'm sorry for letting him down all these years that i couldn't find him. And for what i am now. Im sorry. For it all. I should've known something was wrong with my mom. I should've made dad take her seriously when she asked for help and said she was sick. I should've been able to help her. I don't even know what else to say._ **

**_Dean_ **

 

Sam closed the journal. He couldn't take any more of this. He ran over to the shop and grabbed the phone. He called for Bobby and didn't wait for a 'hello' when the line stopped ringing.

"What was my address when I was a baby?" Sam demanded.

"What?" Bobby was shocked.

"Tell me the address of the house where Dean and I lived together with John and our Mom."

"Sam, are you ok? Where are you?" Bobby spoke frantically.

"I'm fine. Now answer the question." He commanded Bobby with an emotionless voice. The line was silent for a few minutes, and he heard Bobby's muttering to John. He came back on the line and gave the address. Sam hung up before Bobby could say anything else. Sam was off to find Dean.

 


End file.
